Chapter 41: Hidden Fire Hall (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 41: Hidden Fire Hall (1)
The suffocating silence lingered heavily in the ruined courtyard long after Cheol Jung had vanished into the darkness. The crushing pressure he had exuded—which felt like an invisible mountain pressing down on their shoulders—dissipated like morning mist, but the tension in the air remained thick enough to cut with a blade.
Cheol Gun stood utterly still, his head bowed so low that his long hair completely obscured his face. His fists were clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles had turned stark white, and a faint tremor ran up his arms.
For a man whose entire life had been defined by unbroken pride and peerless talent, being forced by his own father to scream an apology to an Orthodox sect fledgling was an unprecedented, soul-crushing humiliation.
“Brother…”
Cheol So-yeon took a hesitant step forward, reaching out a hand. She had never seen her brother look so wretched. Even when he was scolded by their grandfather, he always maintained his relaxed, arrogant smirk.
Smack!
Cheol Gun slapped her hand away with a vicious swing of his arm. When he finally raised his head, his eyes burned with a murderous, bloodshot glare that made Cheol So-yeon flinch.
“Three days,” Cheol Gun spat out, his voice a low, vibrating growl laced with sheer venom. He turned his eyes to Seok Myeong. “Enjoy your final breaths until then, priest. I will tear you apart so thoroughly that not even your master will recognize your corpse.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode away. He didn't head back to his quarters, nor did he look back. His path was set toward the deepest, most restricted area of the Golden Martial Association. He had a weapon to retrieve.
Cheol So-yeon looked back and forth between Seok Myeong’s incredibly calm face and the direction her brother had gone. Biting her lip in deep frustration, she cast one last complicated, unreadable glance at Seok Myeong before hiking up her skirts and hurrying after Cheol Gun.
Once the siblings were gone, Hyeok-jin finally let out the breath he had been holding. He immediately grabbed his own hair, his face pale.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Hyeok-jin shouted, his voice cracking in the quiet night. “A death match? Did you not hear what that monster’s father said? ‘Even if you die, Qingcheng will not hold us responsible.’ He just legally sanctioned your murder!”
“I heard him clearly,” Seok Myeong replied placidly, dusting off a bit of rubble from his Daoist robes.
“Then why did you accept it?! You came all the way to Sichuan to build a reputation, not to throw your life away against the top rising star of the Unorthodox Faction! Do you have two lives? Is there some secret Taoist art of resurrection I don’t know about?”
Seok Myeong turned to look at the older boy, a faint smile touching his lips. “Brother Hyeok-jin, if I had refused, do you think we would have simply been allowed to walk out of the Golden Martial Association?”
Hyeok-jin opened his mouth to yell again, then paused. He swallowed hard. “…What do you mean?”
“Cheol Mu-jin brought me here for a purpose. He intended for me to clash with his grandson from the very beginning. If I backed down, I would be deemed useless. In a place like this, useless people disappear without a trace.”
Seok Myeong looked toward the shattered pavilion, recalling the bizarre, ever-changing trajectory of Cheol Gun’s Sword Aura. “By accepting the duel and demanding a public notice of my victory, I have forced them to acknowledge me properly. They cannot assassinate me in the dark now. The entire Golden Martial Association will be watching. It is exactly the stage I need.”
“But… he’s a monster! Did you not see the way he moved?”
“I saw it well,” Seok Myeong said, his eyes gleaming with a strange light. “And I gained quite a bit from that brief exchange. Let us return inside. I need to meditate. There are a few things I must unravel before the duel.”
Seeing Seok Myeong’s unwavering composure, Hyeok-jin could only let out a long, defeated sigh. Shaking his head, he followed the young Taoist back toward the guest quarters.
*
In the grand main hall of the Golden Martial Association, Cheol Mu-jin sat on his high seat, listening intently to the report.
The shadow guard, Shin Hyeong, knelt on the cold stone floor, his head bowed respectfully.
“And so, the Second Master intervened, forcing the Young Master to apologize to the Taoist and setting the terms for a life-or-death duel in three days,” Shin Hyeong concluded his detailed report of the courtyard incident.
“Hahaha! Hahahaha!”
A hearty, booming laugh echoed through the cavernous hall. Cheol Mu-jin stroked his thick beard, his eyes gleaming with undisguised delight. It had been years since he had felt this entertained.
“To think he actually managed to push Gun back, even going so far as to plant his sword in the ground to disrupt his rhythm with a fist technique. I knew the boy was extraordinary, but his battle sense exceeds my expectations.”
“My Lord,” Shin Hyeong spoke cautiously. “The Young Master’s pride has been deeply wounded. He was radiating an intense killing intent when he left. I fear he might lose control.”
“Good. That is exactly what I wanted,” Cheol Mu-jin said, his smile fading into a sharp, predatory grin. “Gun has been stagnant. His overwhelming talent made him lazy. He looks down on the world because no one his age has ever forced him to bleed. He needed a wall to crash into—someone who could truly threaten his life.”
Cheol Mu-jin leaned forward, resting his massive elbows on his knees. “This Qingcheng Taoist is the perfect whetstone. If Gun cannot overcome this trial, then he is not fit to lead the Golden Martial Association in the future.”
“But My Lord, where shall we host the duel? The central training ground?”
“No.” Cheol Mu-jin stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the room. “Open the Hidden Fire Hall.”
Shin Hyeong’s head snapped up, his eyes widening behind his mask. He forgot his manners for a brief moment. “Pardon? The Hidden Fire Hall? But My Lord, that is the sacred ground of our Association. It is only opened for the most crucial ceremonies, or when the top leadership must make decisions determining the fate of our faction. To use it for a duel with an Orthodox outsider…”
“Do it,” Cheol Mu-jin commanded, his voice brooking no argument. “I want all the elders and the internal leadership to witness this. This is not just a mere duel. It is the crucible that will forge the future ruler of the Golden Martial Association. Let them see Gun shatter his limits and crush the pride of the Orthodox Faction.”
“As you command, My Lord.”
Shin Hyeong bowed deeply and melted back into the shadows, leaving Cheol Mu-jin to look out toward the moonlit courtyard with burning anticipation.
*
Meanwhile, Cheol Gun stood before massive iron doors engraved with demonic visages. Two elite guards blocked his path, but upon seeing the sheer madness swirling in the Young Lord's eyes, they hastily stepped aside and unlocked the heavy mechanisms.
This was the deepest armory, a place he hadn't set foot in for two years.
Torches flickered to life as he entered, illuminating rows of legendary weapons acquired through centuries of bloodshed. But Cheol Gun ignored them all, walking straight to a stone pedestal at the very back of the cavernous room. Resting upon it was a blade that seemed to pulse with a dark, smoldering heat.
The Iron Ridge Fire Bright Sword.
It was a weapon that demanded complete mastery, one he had set aside because it made his blood run too hot, making it difficult to control his temper. The heterodox master who forged it had left behind a will so violent that it constantly challenged the wielder's sanity.
But right now, control was the last thing on his mind.
‘A mere horse-nosed priest dares to look down on me? Father dared to humiliate me in front of him?’
He reached out and grabbed the hilt. The moment his skin touched the rough metal, a vicious, vibrating hum echoed through the cavern. His internal energy surged, instantly connecting with the lingering will of the blade.
“I will show him hell,” Cheol Gun whispered.
With the sword in hand, he bypassed the regular training grounds entirely and headed toward the forbidden clearing behind the mountain. He was going to enter the Hidden Form Heaven Evasion Formation. And he would not step out until he had honed his killing intent to an absolute peak.
*
While the Golden Martial Association buzzed with the undercurrents of the impending storm, far away in the misty peaks of Mount Qingcheng, a different ripple was forming.
A middle-aged martial artist, his clothes dusty from a long journey, climbed the endless stone steps leading to the Qingcheng Sect’s main gate. Strapped tightly to his back was an elongated wooden case.
His name was Gang Bi.
“Who approaches the gates of Qingcheng?” a gatekeeping disciple called out, crossing his wooden sword defensively.
Gang Bi stopped and bowed respectfully, adopting the traditional martial salute. “I am a humble martial artist of the Jianghu. I have come to the esteemed Qingcheng Sect to deliver a message of deep gratitude, and to report a matter of grave concern regarding one of your disciples.”
Sensing the gravity in the man's tone and seeing his proper etiquette, the disciple quickly escorted him inside.
Within the Martial Hall, Elder Song Hak sat sipping his tea. He had been managing the internal affairs of the sect closely ever since the unrest caused by Seok Myeong’s sudden, unauthorized disappearance before the examinations.
“Bring the guest in,” Song Hak ordered when a disciple informed him of the arrival.
Gang Bi entered the hall, awed by the austere and dignified atmosphere of the Orthodox sect. He offered a deep, formal salute. “Greetings, Elder of Qingcheng. Forgive my sudden intrusion.”
“You mentioned you had news regarding one of our disciples,” Song Hak said smoothly, his sharp eyes scanning the wooden case on the man's back. “Speak. We of Qingcheng always listen to the voices of the Jianghu.”
“A short time ago, my companions and I were ambushed by vicious scoundrels of the Unorthodox Faction in a remote mountain pass. They sought to steal my sect's heirloom, which rests in this very case. We were outnumbered and on the brink of death when a young Taoist intervened.”
Gang Bi’s eyes shone with genuine admiration. “His swordsmanship was like a phantom—profound, elegant, and righteous. He drove off the villains with ease and returned our heirloom to me. I owe him my life.”
Song Hak stroked his beard, feigning a benign smile. “It is the natural duty of our Qingcheng disciples to uphold justice in the Jianghu and protect the weak. But why do you say you bring news of grave concern?”
Gang Bi’s expression darkened with worry. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “As I traveled further through the province, I heard disturbing rumors in the Sichuan region. I heard that my young benefactor was seen walking alongside Cheol Mu-jin, the Leader of the Golden Martial Association. Furthermore, it is said he is currently residing deep within their headquarters as an honored guest.”
Song Hak’s hand paused on his teacup. The tea rippled slightly.
The Golden Martial Association? The absolute hegemon of the regional Unorthodox Faction?
A disciple of their Orthodox sect, fraternizing with the very peak of the Unorthodox Faction? This was a scandal of massive proportions. But for Song Hak, it was also the perfect weapon.
If Seok Myeong had truly aligned himself with such people, the elders who already disliked the boy would demand his immediate expulsion. Song Hak’s internal political standing would be cemented.
“A disciple of our sect, fraternizing with the Unorthodox Faction…” Song Hak murmured, letting a tone of deep disappointment seep into his voice, though a calculating glint flashed in his eyes. “This is a grave matter indeed. Did you catch the name of this Taoist?”
Gang Bi nodded earnestly, completely unaware of the political storm he was feeding.
“When I asked for his title after he saved me, he gave me a name that I committed to memory.”
Gang Bi looked up, meeting Song Hak's gaze squarely.
“He said he was the Azure Cloud Taoist.”